


Just Keep Walking

by brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly/pseuds/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's just been released from juvie and he's gone looking for Ian. He knocks the stuffing out of the guy Ian was having sex with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Keep Walking

Free at last. Mickey Milkovich had served six months, two weeks and five days in a juvenile detention centre for breaking parole and assaulting an officer. This would be his last stint in juvie. Next time the shit hit the fan, it’d be big boy prison for him.

He was... he wouldn’t say glad, but maybe a little relieved to be out. His own fucking fault that he’d gone in in the first place, but what can you do? Putting up with shit food and even shittier company was infinitely preferable when compared to the alternative. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what Terry would’ve done had he found out that his youngest son liked to take it up the ass.

He shrugged off the prickle of anxiety he felt. It was over, done. Terry didn’t know, Frank had kept his mouth shut, and he could relax. Well, as much as he ever relaxed.

First thing he planned on doing was finding Gallagher. He’d probably never admit it out loud, but he had actually missed the redhead. It went without saying that he’d missed the sex; hell, he’d missed it the last time too. But after the Great State of Illinois’ latest attempt at bringing him to heel, he found he missed other things about Ian too. That sweet smile that lit up his whole face, the way he’d look at Mickey like he wasn’t a complete fuck up.

But Mickey would sooner go back to juvie than own up to that shit.

Mickey wondered around, checking out the places where he knew Gallagher sometimes hung out. He was about to leave the ball park when he heard yelling.

“Pound me like an Iraqi soldier!”

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up. What the actual fuck? Who fuckin’ said shit like that?

Curious, Mickey went to investigate. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew who it was, but even if he was wrong it’d be fun to kick the crap out of whatever asshole thought that it was a good idea to spew that kind of bullshit during sex.

“Hey! What’s going on over there?”

He heard muffled cursing and the frantic rustling of clothes. He smirked. Oh, yeah. He was going to enjoy this.

As he made his way over to where the noise had been coming from, he spotted pale skin and red hair. Gallagher was hastily pulling on his shirt while the khaki-clad guy he’d been fucking was doing up his pants.

Gallagher looked up and then he froze. “Mickey?” he asked in disbelief.

“Thought you weren’t supposed to be out for a few more weeks,” the guy with Gallagher squeaked.

“They let me out early,” Mickey said with a jaunty grin. Then he promptly kneed the asshole in the stomach. For a guy who supposedly wanted to be in the army, he went down easy. Pussy, Mickey thought derisively.

He glanced up just in time to see Gallagher rolling his eyes. Mickey ignored him for the time being in favour of kicking the fag lying on the ground.

“You two having some sort of queerbo sex under here?” Mickey asked, adding another stiff kick to get his point across.

“Why are you still beating me up?” the kid whined. “He was doing it too.” He gestured towards Ian.

Mickey shrugged, “You were the one taking it in the ass, right? You’re the one I gotta kick straight.” He didn’t miss the smirk that crossed Gallagher’s face.

“Get the fuck outta here,” Mickey said, jerking his head. The guy hastily scrambled up, stumbling in the direction that Mickey had indicated. Just for shits and giggles, Mickey aimed a kick at the guy’s undoubtedly tender ass.

He turned to Gallagher. For a second, neither of them said anything. All the shit that had gone down between them before Mickey had left, all the fucked up shit that Mickey had said to the other boy, it all hovered in the air between them. An unfamiliar part of Mickey wanted to apologise. But he didn’t know how, knew that couldn’t find the words to say, wouldn’t be able to put them together in a way that would make Ian understand.

Instead, Mickey did what he always did: he brazened it out. “You got any fuck left in you, or did you dump it all in that faggot’s ass?”

Gallagher stared at him for a moment before his face split into a grin. He was moving towards Mickey as began taking his shirt off. Mickey smirked as he began to undo his own pants.

The sex was fast and rough and messy. By the time they were done, Mickey was flushed and panting. He’d be walking a little funny—hey, it’d been a while since he’d last been fucked—but, man was it worth it.

He settled under the bleachers and lit up a cigarette. He could feel the satisfied smile curling his lips but made no effort to hide it. He took a drag from the cigarette, slowly releasing the smoke. Before he could think better of it, the words escaped. “Missed ya, man.”

Mickey cursed mentally. What the fuck was wrong with him? Since when did he blurt out girly shit like that? He glanced at Gallagher furtively and saw that that the redhead’s face had lit up.

“You did?”

“Yeah, man. Had to do all the fucking in juvie. Felt good to switch back.” He felt like an asshole, seeing the spark in Ian’s eyes fade slightly. He was doing this for Gallagher’s sake as much as for his own. It was important that neither of them forgot what this was. That was what had led to half the trouble the last time. So long as they each kept colouring within the lines that Mickey had drawn, everything would be fine.

Gallagher sat down next to Mickey. They were talking idly, passing the cigarette back and forth between them. Gallagher asked him why he’d come back and he fed the guy some bullshit excuse. After a while, they sat in companionable silence. This happened almost never; Gallagher was one chatty son of a bitch most days, so Mickey took the opportunity to mull over Ian’s question about why he’d come back to the South Side.

He remembered the look of surprise on the other boy’s face when he saw Mickey. Had that been because he wasn’t expecting to see Mickey so soon, or because he hadn’t expected Mickey to come back at all? He probably should have just blazed out of Chicago. Gone somewhere that he wouldn’t have Terry’s shadow looming over him, somewhere he didn’t have to look at guys with big fucking Bambi eyes that made him feel guilty.

He didn’t really have anything holding him here, besides Mandy. But she had Ian. He’d always taken care of her. And from what he heard, she was banging that asshole Lip, so she’d probably be okay if he chose to split.

But then he’d never see Ian again. The idea made him... uneasy, restless. He didn’t know why the fuck he should care if he never saw the other boy again. Not like Mickey hadn’t gone almost seven months without seeing the redhead. Not like Gallagher would have any trouble finding a replacement. Not like they could ever have more than what they had going right now.

Mickey was shaken from his thoughts by Gallagher’s voice. Clearly, quiet time was over. The other guy began talking about Mickey getting his old job back. Some shit about Ian and Linda not being enough of a deterrent to thieves anymore. Apparently a casual “I’ll bury your body where no one will ever find it” was more intimidating than Linda’s long and colourful tirades.

Mickey shrugged carelessly. “Whatever, man.” He wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to set foot in the store ever a-fucking-gain. He’d been shot and almost outed in that shithole. But a job was a job. And it had some pretty good side benefits too.

He saw Ian staring at him from out of the corner of his eye. The redhead had this little smile on his face, his eyes warm. It made Mickey uncomfortable. Not because he wanted to smile back—he fucking _didn’t_ —but because it seemed like maybe Gallagher was getting the wrong idea. And when Ian got wrong ideas, he started making those stupid fucking Bambi eyes, and that put thoughts in Mickey’s head that had no business being there.

Mickey stood up abruptly, not even looking in Ian’s direction. The other boy glanced up sharply. “Wait, you’re leaving?” Ian asked, sounding crestfallen.

“Yup, got some shit to do,” Mickey said by way of explanation. “See ya around.” Mickey sauntered out from under the bleachers. He made sure not to glance over his shoulder, had no desire to see the look on Ian’s face.

He ignored the temptation to just say, “fuck it”, turn around and hang out with Ian some more.

He ignored the pang he felt when Ian just let him walk away.

He just kept walking.


End file.
